The King's Achievement eBook

“Yes; how did you know? It is on Ralph’s
account. She cannot forgive that. Can you
say anything to her, do you think? Anything to
explain? You understand—­”

“I understand.”

“I do not know how I dare say all this,”
went on Mary blushing furiously, “but I must
thank you too for what you have done for my sister.
It is wonderful. I could have done nothing.”

“My dear,” said Beatrice. “I
love your sister. There is no need for thanks.”

A loud voice hailed them.

“Sweetheart,” shouted Sir Nicholas, standing
with his legs apart at the mounting steps. “The
horses are fretted to death.”

“You will remember,” said Mary hurriedly,
as they turned. “And—­God bless
you, Beatrice!”

Lady Torridon was indeed very quiet now. It was
strange for the others to see the difference.
It seemed as if she had been conquered by the one
weapon that she could wield, which was brutality.
As Mr. Carleton had said, she had never been faced
before; she had been accustomed to regard devoutness
as incompatible with strong character; she had never
been resisted. Both her husband and children
had thought to conquer by yielding; it was easier
to do so, and appeared more Christian; and she herself,
like Ralph, was only provoked further by passivity.
And now she had met one of the old school, who was
as ready in the use of worldly weapons as herself;
she had been ignored and pricked alternately, and
with astonishing grace too, by one who was certainly
of that tone of mind that she had gradually learnt
to despise and hate.

Chris saw this before his father; but he saw too that
the conquest was not yet complete. His mother
had been cowed with respect, as a dog that is broken
in; she had not yet been melted with love. He
had spoken to Mary the day before the Maxwells’
departure, and tried to put this into words; and Mary
had seen where the opening for love lay, through which
the work could be done; and the result had been the
interview with Beatrice, and the mention of Ralph’s
name. But Mary had not a notion how Beatrice
could act; she only saw that Ralph was the one chink
in her mother’s armour, and she left it to this
girl who had been so adroit up to the present, to
find how to pierce it.

Sir James had given up trying to understand the situation.
He had for so long regarded his wife as an irreconcilable
that he hoped for nothing better than to be able to
keep her pacified; anything in the nature of a conversion
seemed an idle dream. But he had noticed the change
in her manner, and wondered what it meant; he hoped
that the pendulum had not swung too far, and that
it was not she who was being bullied now by this imperious
girl from town.

He said a word to Mr. Carleton one day about it, as
they walked in the garden.

“Father,” he said, “I am puzzled.
What has come to my wife? Have you not noticed
how she has not spoken for three days. Do you
think she dislikes Mistress Atherton. If I thought
that—­”